


The Night Before

by politicalmamaduck



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Short One Shot, Spreading my crackship to the masses, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:17:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/pseuds/politicalmamaduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle against the Others will be fought the next day. Stannis Baratheon and Daenerys Targaryen realize their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Before

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tumblr's Game of Ships Challenge: Countdown to Wintertown.

_“He is the Lord’s chosen, born amidst salt and smoke.”_

_"No one ever looked for a girl," he said. "It was a prince that was promised, not a princess. Rhaegar, I thought... What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise! The error crept in from the translation. Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all for a thousand years. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it."_

It was cold, so bitterly cold. Nothing seemed to help; not roasting what little meat was left on a spit, not steaming mugs of hot water, not sleeping in as many piles of furs as possible.

The dragon woman never seemed to be cold. She stood, impervious to the wind and the snow, staring out at the vast icy stretch before them, her dragons swooping overhead, as if she were the queen of Westeros already.

Taking another look at the encampment, seeing that the men were on guard, never too far from a blazing campfire, that they were well-armed with bits of dragonglass and that all seemed to be orderly, Stannis stalked through the snow back to his own tent to continue planning for the battle the next day. They were coming.

…

_Winter is coming_ , thought Daenerys. The Stark words were particularly apt at this time.

She had never experienced a winter in Westeros. And if the Others were not defeated on the morrow, she would never experience a winter in Westeros.

The dragons continued to swoop overhead, guarding the camp from the skies, melting the snow each time they landed. Their mother stood, watching them, thinking about the next day, about what she would have to do.

The battle would be unlike any other. She had been attempting to teach her dragons to roast corpses as soon as they fell, to prevent them from being reanimated and used as wights. She could only hope it would aid them.

She glanced across the encampment to see Lord Stannis, stalking through the snow and scowling as usual.

How she would like to see him smiling for once, she thought.

Daenerys had found herself growing to like her truculent cousin and rival for the Iron Throne despite herself. Her dragons had taken to him surprisingly well; less surprisingly so when he explained to her, through gritted teeth, that they were in fact second cousins.

He had excellent capabilities as a battle commander, it was known, and she was now witnessing it firsthand. His men were deferential and organized in perfect precision at every turn.

She told her people to bed down for the night, to save their strength for what was to come, and she steeled herself to speak with Lord Stannis, the would-be king.

…

Their discussion of how to proceed after the battle on the morrow had not started off well. Daenerys found herself growing frustrated, and attempted to smother her anger.

_Be patient_ , she told herself. _You are a queen. And he will come around eventually_.

As long as their enemy was defeated; it would all mean nothing otherwise.

She knew, though it would have been nigh imperceptible to another, somehow she had grown in Stannis’ estimation as they had fought the onslaught from the Lands of Always Winter over the past months.

And so she took a deep breath and continued.

…

Stannis had always been disconcerted by women. He had never had much use for them; he was no great philanderer like his brother Robert. He had done his duty by his wife for many years, never sparing another woman a second glance until the Lady Melisandre walked into his life.

But both his lady wife and loyal priestess were gone now, and he found himself growing attracted to the dragon woman despite his intentions and his best efforts to ignore her and her presence in the same camp.

All had heard tell of the mysterious Khaleesi’s great beauty, long before her arrival in the North. Messengers, hedge knights, peasants, many great and small, had started to flock northward to take part and earn acclaim fighting the Others after Daenerys Targaryen’s fleet landed on Westerosi shores and she herself proclaimed her intention to save the realm from encroaching winter.

_Typical_ , thought Stannis. _I had been fighting this fight well enough and no one paid it any mind until yet someone else trying to steal my rightful crown claimed to be their savior_.

Despite all of that, Stannis had developed a grudging respect for Daenerys Targaryen, who was so unlike her mad father, and later, a burgeoning desire. She truly was as beautiful as the tales had told, and he admired her ability to demand loyalty and respect from her Unsullied soldiers and other men besides. She had been able to bring together quite the collection of Unsullied, Dothraki, and other Essosi fighters to follow her to Westeros, and while they were unlike any army he had seen before, they fought diligently for their queen. He kept his attitude towards her to a studied indifference, however. He would never admit to his baser desires.

It made arguing with her as the rival claimant to his throne all the more difficult and uncomfortable, as he knew it to be the underlying cause of his frustration.

“Enough of this,” she said, with an air of authority that belied her gender and her still young age, and bringing him out of his thoughts. “It will serve us naught to argue thus the night before the battle.” She stopped, suddenly, as if searching for her next words. It was a vulnerability she had never before displayed in Stannis’ presence.

“Tell me, Lord Stannis,” she began, looking up at him and once again he caught a flash of vulnerability he knew she had been trying to hide. “What is it like to fight in these battles, truly?”

Though her armies did defer to her as their queen, Daenerys did not fight with a sword as a male ruler would. While mounted on horseback, her beautiful Dothraki mare, she had shouted commands to both troops and dragons alike, often in the liquid vowels of High Valyrian, but never took to armed combat herself.

Stannis paused, meeting her eyes. This was not a question he had been expecting.

“I do not lust for battle, for fighting, like some,” he started, measuring his words. “I followed my brother into battle when I had to. I have fought because it was my duty, not my desire, and I have thought many moments to be my last.” He did not know if this was the answer she was looking for, but he would give her only the truth.

She nodded, acknowledging his words. She took a step towards him, and taking his hand, said “I am grateful that I will have your strength and that of your men beside me tomorrow. If it should be our last fight, I am proud to say we fought to defend our birthright against this menace.”

Stannis was moved by her words, but wondered why she had chosen to confide in him the night before the battle thusly. _Does she have an ulterior motive, to distract and unseat me because she thinks the Others will be defeated_?

And his thoughts were silenced in an instant when suddenly, she reached up to tenderly stroke his cheek, and brought his head down to meet her lips.

He vaguely remembered, in the back of his mind, hearing about her disastrous political marriage to a Meereenese noble with a ridiculous name, but brushed it away as he tried and failed to fight his instinct to wrap his arm around her waist and hold her closer. Every reason they should not be doing what they were doing was racing through his mind and they were all summarily dismissed. He was amazed to find how warm her skin was to the touch, how soft, despite the raging cold.

He knew he would be warm tonight, the warmest he had been in months, since he had left the wretched Castle Black, and though he would never admit it, he was glad to not be alone. He felt a sudden tender urge to protect the woman in his arms, to make sure even if he did not survive, that she would.

Daenerys had desperately missed the feeling of a man’s touch. She could not remember how long it had been since she had passed a night in Meereen in the arms of Daario Naharis. Had she been younger, she knew she would never have been attracted to Stannis, of all people. But she was ready to admit, for all his many faults, she felt a deep respect and desire for him that was altogether unlike what she had experienced with Drogo or Daario. Hizdahr was another feeling altogether, one of queenly apathy.

It was not the passion of youth, or a necessary alliance, but rather an honest attraction born of a mutual respect and equal footing.

She had surprised them both when she kissed Stannis, she knew. But if tonight was to be her last and she was to die in a blizzard of battle tomorrow, she could think of no better way to spend it than in his arms.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Spreading my favorite crackship to the masses, one reader at a time. ;)
> 
> Love as always to my beta boo, Desiree, and my best friend Amanda, both of which have the patience of saints in bearing with me.
> 
> Comments and constructive feedback always appreciated! You can find me on tumblr at politicalmamaduck.tumblr.com.


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